


Devotion

by yungidreamer



Series: October Fantasy Series [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Healing, Knight, knight in shining armor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yungidreamer/pseuds/yungidreamer
Summary: The brave knight Changbin is almost killed fighting a dragon that threatens the land and people he has devoted his service to. After the battle he is saved and nursed back to health by a kind soul. But after he is healed, what does fate have in hand for them in return for their devoted service?
Relationships: Seo Changbin/Reader
Series: October Fantasy Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947145
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Devotion

_ Suggested music: [Risk It All](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fmusic.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DoDVFzPWWtPs%26feature%3Dshare&t=ZDhmNmQ5ODRkNDQ1NjMwZTlhYWJjMGQ2MDljMTkzNTNjZDVkYTlmMSw1ZmUyZDc1Nzk3OWZjYzM1YmZmYzkzZTY3YWIxOTM2NTIzNzI0YTll&ts=1601541453) by Christian Reindl and [It’s Done](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fmusic.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D9QKpwxYuAZg%26feature%3Dshare&t=OWQzNzAzY2E3YmYyYWFhZmI4ZjY1YWU5MDZhNjYyNjFhZTYzMmM4Yiw2MGQwMjFhNDIxOGE1ZWE3NWQyMDc1OGE3Yzc4MGZiM2YyNjdkMzY3&ts=1601541453) by Dustin Krizan & Epic Music VN  _

_ Blood dripped and his armor baked against his skin. An unearthly howl broke through the air and he could feel the rush of air as the spiked tail swept just above his head. He peered around the edge of his wooden shield, getting a brief look at his foe. The great scaled beast had reared up preparing to unleash another inferno on him and was raising its tail for another swing at him. He wouldn’t last long like this, but he had no choice, he couldn’t let this monster keep killing. _

_ Raising his shield, he ducked as the fire roiled over him, holding himself still, listening for the rush of air that preceded the whiplike lash of it’s poisoned tail. Air rushed and he turned his shield, his keen eye aiming it to catch the barbed spike the beast hoped to pierce him with, its oily excretion shining on its surface. With a great crack the spike pierced the thick, hard wood of his shield. In an instant, he turned it, putting the tail in range of his sharp length of steel. The flesh sliced with a thick, meaty gush and the dragon screamed. _

_ Now was the moment, it was either him or the beast. If he could not kill it now he would be the one laying lifeless in a pool of their own blood. His feet moved him forward, no matter the pain, and he rushed for the animals stomach, momentarily bared to attack as the beast reeled at the pain and the loss of its tail. His sword sunk to the hilt and a rush of deep red blood flowed forth. _

_ The dragon let out a final scream, growing weaker as it stumbled and collapsed there on the field of battle. Smoke curled from the singed grass around them, making the air acrid and sharp. He watched the great lump of flesh that was once a dragon for signs of life, praying that it was over. Slow spirals of misty smoke that had been rising from it’s nostrils petered out and finally died. It was done. He had succeeded. The kingdom was safe. _

_ As the adrenaline left his body, he could no longer ignore the pulsing ache that was building in his arm. He has won, but at what cost. His eyes went to his arm and the great gash that had been opened there by the spike as he caught it with his shield. At least it went first, he thought to himself as his strength faded. The world went black and he collapsed where he stood. _

Bright light filled his vision behind his still closed lids, almost painful in its intensity. Somewhere the faint strains of a soft voice singing reached his ears, but it seemed like he was listening to it from the depths of a well, so distant and echoing.  _ Where am I _ _ , _ he asked himself.  _ Is this heaven _ ? The thought was fleeting as a heavy pain washed over him.  _ No, in heaven I would not feel such agony _ .

“Shhhh, Binnie,” the soft voice said, having drawn nearer. Even in it’s speaking, it was musical in its tone. “Take this and you will sleep again. You are not yet healed and it is for the best if you don’t remember this.”

He felt a cup press to his lips and a liquid enter his mouth. It was sweet when it entered, but faded to a harsh bitterness as he swallowed.  _ Why can’t I see? Why can’t I move? _ His questions faded to nothingness as he fell again into the comfort of unconsciousness.

She removed the cup from his lips and sighed as his features went slack again. She wouldn’t wish the pain he would be in, were he awake, on her cruelest enemy, let alone on such a kind soul as him. She had found him where he had fallen, on the field of battle, looking half dead and perhaps beyond hope. Still as long as there was even a glimmer of hope, she would have always tried.

_ “I need your help, Seungie,” she said softly to her great black steed. The horse whinnied and huffed, but lowered itself to the ground allowing her to drag him onto the saddle on its back. With him secured, the horse stood. _

_ “Thank you, my friend,” she said, patting his soft nose. “I will tell him of your contribution to saving his life if he wakes.” The horse tossed its head, flinging its mane as if to say he wasn’t doing it for him. “I know, I love you, too. You’re the best friend I could ask for.” The horse huffed and shifted on his feet, ready to head back to the cottage. She nodded and took his reins in hand, leading the way. _

The voice was there again, but the light, at least, seemed to have dimmed. His eyelids felt as heavy as lead as he struggled to open them. He wanted to move, he wanted to see, he wanted to know where he was. Her voice hummed pleasantly from somewhere nearby, letting out a low and lilting song.  _ Who are you? _ He wondered, he willed the question to her, though his mouth refused to work. His throat was dry and hurt, but finally let out a rumbling moan. The singing stopped and he heard her light footsteps draw near.

“Binnie, I don’t think you’re well enough yet,” she said softly. “But you must be thirsty now. Here.” He felt a soft, wet something touch his lips, letting a drop fall into his mouth. He sucked at it, pulling more in and feeling the rush of relief the liquid brought to him. Too soon, it pulled away and he let out a small sound of protest.

“Shhhh,” she soothed. “Here’s a little more.” The soft thing returned to his lips, quenching his thirst at least a little bit more. She repeated the motion a few more times until his desperation seemed to fade for the most part.

“Just a couple more days,” she promised. “You’re making such improvements already. You can wake up soon, but for now, take another sip. Sleep just a little longer.” The cup was there again and he sipped the sweet bitter liquid, letting blackness take him again.

_ He was truly a beautiful man, she thought to herself _ . Even like this, even with the burns and the scrapes that covered so much of him. She pulled the poultice off the right side of his face, checking the skin underneath. It was still red and angry, but it was finally smooth again. He was healing. Not only was he clearly going to survive, it was clear with each passing day, that the beauty of his face would return to the glorious radiance it had had before the battle.

She ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it off his forehead. A small cut had spit the angular line of his eyebrow on one side. It had been deep enough to need a few stitches, and, while it was healing well, it was clear that there would be a scar there for the rest of his life.

“A mark of your bravery,” she whispered, running her thumb over the almost healed wound. “No one will see it as anything else, hero knight, savior of all in the kingdom.”

With nimble fingers she washed him and replaced the herbed packs that covered his wounds before covering him up again with the blanket to let him rest. It was already late and she was tired, having spent most of the day gathering and preparing what he needed to heal. He would be well soon, she told herself as she stretched and yawn, exhaustion settling on her like a wet blanket.

She blew out the last of the candles in the room and curled up on the little mattress she had made on the floor beside the bed. Pulling the blanket up around her, she closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her. Her work was almost done and soon he would leave, returning to the kingdom and his life as a noble knight. He would probably forget her, which was just as well. His lifestyle was one that would likely bring worry and sorrow to those who loved him, those who let him into their heart.

_ Still, I’ll never forget him; his bravery and his beauty. _

Morning light spilled into the small room rousing Changbin from his very long slumber. Finally he was able to open his eyes, to move his hands, to sit up. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the unfamiliar canopy of a bed he could not remember getting into. A cold and wet sensation covered his right cheek, driving him to reach up and touch whatever was there. It turned out to be some damp piece of folded cloth that let out a pleasant, herbal sort of fragrance when he touched it. Under the covers he felt that same sensation in patches across his chest and legs. Flipping them open he looked down at his body, trying to figure out why it was so naked and just how he had ended up here. The only thing he was wearing was a small pair of short trousers cinched around his hips. Gathering all the damp clumps of fabric together, he set them in a pile on the mattress beside him and looked down to see what they had left on him. His skin was slightly warm and red under them, though they had been cool in their dampness. He slid to the side of the bed, ready to stand up when his foot touched something on the floor there. He looked off the side of the bed and blinked, trying to make sense of what he saw there.

On the floor, in what he could only describe as a nest, something, or perhaps someone, was curled under a pile of blankets. They weren’t moving, who or whatever they happened to be, and Binnie, feeling oddly naked and vulnerable, chose to slide further to the side, trying to sneak past them without disturbing them. He was only partially successful, managing to get a few steps away before a loudly creaking floorboard made a sharp squeal in the silence of the room. The someone in the pile on the floor sat up with a start, eyes shooting open in surprise as they...well as he could see now, as  _ she _ shot into a seated position.

“Binnie, you’re up,” she exclaimed, rushing to stand up and go to him. “Are you sure you feel well enough? You really should sit down. You must be hungry. I can make something.” She looked at his near nakedness and blushed. “I can also get you something to wear. It won’t do for you to catch a cold and die of that after surviving that battle.”

She let the curtain of her hair fall into her face as she turned away, going to, what turned out to be, a pile of his clothing. She stepped forward, the clothing in her extended hands, her eyes not meeting his as she passed them to him. Accepting them, he looked at their state with a perplexed confusion. They seemed to be simultaneously soft and clean, as well as terribly worn and... _ burned _ ? His brow crinkled in confusion. A flash of a memory came to him, a moment of a single vivid image filled with fire, scales, and blood.

“What happened?” He asked, scrunching his nose against the unpleasant whiff of scorching that seemed to fill his nose.

“You succeeded,” she replied, a note of confusion filling her voice. “You saved us all.”

“I succeeded at what?” Changbin questioned, a note of frustration filling his voice.

“You killed the dragon,” she replied, eyes wide. “The great scourge that killed so many. You stood against it. You killed it and almost died yourself in doing so.”

“Then how,” he looked around the room that made up the cozy cottage. “How did I get here?”

“I found you,” She explained, relaxing ever so slightly under his intensely watchful gaze. “After the battle. I brought you here hoping that I could save your life; repay you for all that you did.”

“Why don’t I remember it?” He demanded, setting the clothes on the table just behind him.

“You were so hurt,” She shook her head, a pain filling her eyes as she looked at him. “Between the poison in the gash on your arm,” she gestured to his arm, which he looked at for the first time, seeing the sheen of a pink scar stretching over six inches on his forearm. “And the burns from the dragon fire and where it heated your armor like a hot poker, you were in so much pain when you were conscious. So I kept you out with a potion. Just something so you couldn’t feel it.”

“How long?” He asked, not sure he wanted to know, really.

“A month, maybe a month and a half,” she admitted. “But it could have been so much worse.”

“A month and a half?” He breathed. “Everyone is going to think I’m dead. My friends, my family. Did you tell anyone?”

“I couldn’t,” she shook her head. “I’m the only one here and I couldn’t leave you here alone when you were so hurt.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, turning to pull something on, if he could find something salvageable to wear.

“Let me make you something to eat,” she moved past him and pulled a cast iron pot from where it had been suspended over the last of the dying coals in the fireplace. She lifted the lid and scooped out a little of the still warm porridge that was still inside. Handing him the bowl once he was a little more dressed, she sat in the seat across from him, trying not to make it obvious she was watching him eat.

“Aren’t you going to have something, too?” He asked, feeling her eyes on him.

“Oh, I’ll make something for myself later,” she smiled and waved away the question. Changbin picked at the food, slowly managing to take it all down, though his stomach protested, having been so long without solid food.

“Thank you,” he told her, genuinely grateful for what she had given him. 

“Of course,” she gave him a radiant smile, taking the bowl away to wash later. “I really should check your wounds a little, if you’re comfortable letting me.”

“There can’t be much you haven’t already seen,” he admitted, a sort of pink rising on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Go ahead.” She gave a nervous laugh, not willing to admit that it was true. Standing up, she moved to the other side of the table where he sat. She turned his face to look at the cut that had gashed his forehead and split his eyebrow. The scar was still pink but the wound had fully closed. It might not look pretty, but she had kept it from getting infected, and really, she thought, it looked rather dashing.

He looked up into her face as she examined him, watching concentration in her eyes that softened into some expression he couldn’t quite read. When she was satisfied with whatever she was examining on his face, she moved on to looking at his arm. As she held it, carefully examining the new pink scar there, she started to hum something that was familiar but that he was also entirely sure he didn’t know. He watched her as she tenderly but with a sort of dispassionate manner that made it feel comfortably intimate. The sight, combined with the soft, comforting sound of her humming brought a warm feeling of affection to his chest and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t just an impersonal gratitude, it was like the memory of a long forgotten friend, warm and enveloping as it drifted around your heart.

Memories of sounds more than anything else tickled at the back of his brain. The same hummed tune, sprinkled with the occasional word where it was remembered. A soft voice letting him know what they were doing as a cool sensation spread across his painful skin. That same gentle voice just talking, filling the room with a humorous anecdote, something that seemed like it was part of a larger story that he couldn’t recall. They felt like memories from another person or another lifetime, oddly displaced in his head, yet very real.

As she knelt to look at the pink splotches of skin that were peppered across his legs, he felt a sudden urge to lift her face up, make her look at him and press a kiss to her lips. His heart tugged in his chest. There was something there, something…

**_A few months later_ **

Changbin shifted awkwardly on his feet. He didn’t want to be here. Throughout the great hall lords and ladies milled around, talking about nothing in particular and certainly nothing important. He should be talking to someone, at least for appearances sake, but meaningless and inane conversation grated on his ears like steel on stone. They were all here for him; to honor his bravery and sacrifice that had saved them all. His reward for such service? Why of course what  _ everyone _ wanted: a title and the wealth that came with it! Everyone…

_ “You should come with me, back to the kingdom,” he had urged on the third evening after he had first awoken. “It isn’t good to be alone like this. What if something happened? What if a brigand or rogue found you here alone?” _

_ “Mmm, it’s best if I stay here,” she shook her head. “No good can come of me going there. My life here might be lonely now and again but what I have here is good and my life is my own.” _

_ “The city might be loud and crowded,” he shook his head, putting a warm hand on the small of her back. “But your life would still be your own. Surely someone with your skills could make a living as a healer. Perhaps it isn’t a glamourous calling and wouldn’t buy you the finest things, but enough that your life would be free from want.” _

_ “Perhaps,” she allowed, not contradicting him yet it was clear she would not come… _

“Where is our brave hero?” The King’s voice carried in the cavernous hall, silencing the chattering masses. “It is time to bestow upon him the honors he has earned with his valor!”

The crowds parted with the fluidity of quicksilver, leaving a broad open path between him and the king. It felt like every eye in the place was on him, watching him like prey. Changbin straightened his spine and walked through the canyon of humanity, his steps slow and resonant in the quiet of the room. He felt like a convict making his way to the gallows, but one did not turn down a gift from the king.

He should have stayed with her, stayed lost and dead as the hero who made the greatest sacrifice. His parents would have mourned his loss. His friends would have toasted in his memory for years to come. The King could memorialize him as the perfect subject, selfless and brave. The real him slowly fading in memory as the ideal version slowly replaced it over time. She had been right. Life there in that little cottage had at least been his own.

_ “I’ll never forget all that you’ve done for me,” Changbin promised, putting her small hand over his heart. _

_ “If there was ever a life worthy of being saved…” she let her words hang in the air before she slowly took her hand from under his. One of them had to move first and she decided, if it made it even the slightest bit easier for him, she could be the one. Giving him one last wane smile, she turned and made her way back inside as a tear crept down the curve of her cheek. _

“Service to King and Country is the greatest calling,” the King’s sonorous voice filled the space, reaching even the most distant ear. “Many in the history of this great land have stepped forth in our times of need, but none so bravely. None with such selflessness, standing alone in the face of unwinnable odds.

“It is Our greatest pleasure and our most sacred duty to reward his fealty with the honor of becoming a high lord of the land with all the rights and responsibilities entailed. For too long the lands to the north have been left without a proper lord to oversee and protect them. Since the death of the Earl of Cirawiel they have lacked the guidance of a proper lord. We cannot think of any more worthy of having the lands, the title, and the duties so entitled, than the brave knight who knees before us now.

“And so it is Our honor today to give to him the hand of the heiress in holy matrimony. By this act We will ensure the safety of the land, the perpetuation of that noble line, and reward his honorable service with the wealth and comfort he has proven himself so worthy to receive.

“Bring forth the bride.”

Once more the crowds parted and for the first time, Changbin laid eyes on the woman to whom he would be wed. She was dressed in a fashionable silk brocade kirtle of pure white and gold that flowed heavily around her figure. From her shoulders hung a blue mantle lined with ermine. Her delicate hands, the only part of her actually visible, gripped the folds of her dress, lifting it out of the way of her mincing steps as she was guided to him. Over her face hung a long silk veil that reached down past her chest and almost completely obscured her features. A crown of gold and polished jewels sat upon her head, securing the veil and making demonstrable the wealth that came with wedding her.

The face of the woman who nursed him back to health flashed in his head. This was wrong. This wasn’t what he wanted. Whoever this stranger was, she wasn’t who he was meant to be with. She only brought with her the burdens of obligation, duty.  _ What I have here is good and my life is my own. _ Her words echoed in his head. If he could go back to a moment of time, he would have stayed, he would never have returned.

When she came to stand beside him, going to her knees before the King, he clenched his jaw and did the same. They knelt as perfect strangers but rose as husband and wife, the deed done with barely a word spoken between them. He slid the simple gold band he had been given onto her finger and let her hand drop.

“We present to you all, the Earl and Countess of Cirawiel,” the King announced to the gathered lords and ladies gathered. “Changbin, you may kiss your bride.”

The beginnings of soft, congratulatory applause trickled from the crowd around them as his hands moved to the edge of the veil. The knot in his stomach tightened and he saw her knuckles turn white as she squeezed her hands together nervously. _Do it_ _,_ he told himself. _If it's going to hurt, just get it over with._ As he lifted the veil, he held his breath, both eager and afraid for the moment to be over.

“You?!” Shock filled his voice when he saw her face revealed.

“Binnie?” Said that familiar voice he had missed so much.

_ A pounding sounded on the door of the cottage, pulling her away from her work with the herbs she had gathered. After wiping her hands on the apron she wore, she went to the door, cracking it open to see who had disturbed the peace of her little world. _

_ “You are being summoned,” said a firm looking little man, standing confidently between two burly guards who had clearly escorted him to her door. _

_ “By whom?” She said cautiously. _

_ “The King,” he replied simply. _

_ “Is it perhaps something that could instead be delivered, or a message—” she tried to offer. _

_ “Your husband has been chosen,” the man cut her off. “You are called to do your duty to your family and our King.” _

Without a second thought, Binnie pulled her into a kiss. No moment in his life could match the pure joy and gratitude that flowed through him when he laid eyes on her. A cheer rose from the crowds surrounding them but the sound never reached their ears. As his lips took hers, it was just them, the world fading away in the ecstasy of their shared relief. She tasted sweeter than honey as he sucked at her lips, enjoying them for as long as he could.

“Now we feast!” The King declared as they pulled apart. “We celebrate our hero and his lady tonight!”

“How?” Changbin sputtered so that only she could hear him as they were escorted to their seats of honor. “What are you doing here?”

“I was summoned,” she whispered back. “I couldn’t refuse, but if I had known, I…I would have come with far fewer tears.”

“I will do all that I can to give you a life where you never need shed another tear,” he swore, pulling her closer to him.

“Not all tears come from sorrow,” she took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “Some can be from solace… or joy.”

“Like these,” he pointed out, wiping away a crystalline drop that was rolling down her cheek.

“Like these,” she agreed with a cheery laugh.

“I thought that fate had played me for a fool,” he admitted. “Leaving that little haven of yours in the woods could have been the worst mistake of my life.”

“Your destiny was far greater than that small life,” she smiled at him. “You were meant for noble deeds and protecting those who need your shield.”

“I was meant to spend my life repaying you for saving it,” he countered. “Your happiness is my most supreme duty and devotion.”


End file.
